


Leverage Ficlets

by PhoenixFalls



Category: Leverage
Genre: Eliot Spencer's Cooking, Episode: S04e07 The Grave Danger Job, F/M, Multi, Scene Gone Wrong, Sensory Deprivation, Spite Cooking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 16:17:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19154578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixFalls/pseuds/PhoenixFalls
Summary: Leverage ficlets written for prompts on Dreamwidth or tumblr. Various ratings and pairings, which I will include in each chapter title.





	1. Alec/Eliot/Parker, Pineapple Anchovy Pizza (rated G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sanguinity prompted: "Alec/Eliot/Parker (or &, if you prefer), A REAL chef could put both pineapple and anchovy on a pizza! (MAKE IT WORK)." Originally posted [here](https://phoenixfalls.dreamwidth.org/4677.html?thread=18245#cmt18245).

The crust was the key.

Caputo 00 flour, of course, and the starter that Eliot had been growing for nearly a decade now, through more countries than he could count (though Hardison could probably track that for him). His current favorite Tuscan olive oil, just enough sugar for proofing, and finely ground sea salt. The right application of muscle, time, and heat produced a thin crust with a fantastic bite and a subtly rich flavor to ground the monstrosity he was creating.

No sauce.

For the cheese, a base of fresh mozzarella, mild and creamy, then parmigiano-reggiano grated over the top for its nuttiness and depth.

And then all that was left was the horror. The toppings.

Oil-packed anchovies, already filleted. Eliot spread them with care, one long anchovy per slice of pizza. Eliot actually preferred a fishier brand for most of his recipes, liking the strong taste of the sea, but given what they were going to be paired with he opted for a brand that was milder, more simply salty tasting. He did not pat off the excess oil, counting on it to crisp the fish in the oven.

Then he got out his knife and attacked the pineapple.

Fresh. The only saving grace about this thing was going to be using a perfectly ripe, fresh, Maui Gold pineapple. Eliot made quick work of it, resulting in thin diced pieces. After a little experimentation, he settled on roasting the pineapple first, glazed with brown sugar, getting it richly caramelized, then adding it to the pizza. Sparingly.

But something was still missing. Sweet and salty and rich. . . it needed heat. It took Eliot weeks of taste testing to figure out which chili would serve the purpose best; none of his usual go-tos brought the right balance. Finally he settled on a datil pepper, roasted and minced and scattered under the cheese, its clean sweet taste and serious punch of heat absolutely perfect.

He timed it so that he was pulling the pizza out of the oven just as Parker and Hardison were coming home from the latest superhero movie. Eliot had begged off because he always had more fun watching them at home, with Hardison complaining about Hollywood's version of hacking, and Parker demonstrating that yes, people can bend that way, than he ever could watching in a dark theater surrounded by strangers. Also, there was a point to be proved.

Eliot did own a pizza cutter. But it was far more fun to point his knife at Hardison as they walked through the door, proclaim sternly "I am so a REAL chef," and then defiantly cut the pizza into six even pieces.

Hardison sniffed, eyes growing wide as he caught the briny, sweet notes in the air. It had been almost three months since he laid down the challenge, offhand, drinking beer and heckling the chefs on the food network, but Eliot could see the exact moment Hardison remembered.

"Hey, man, that wasn't meant as a slight or anything. . ."

Eliot glared. "I am."

Hardison held up his hands, starting to back away. He was really hung up on his idea that the anchovies were the gross part of the equation. Eliot had taken great joy in telling him that anchovies were the secret ingredient in Caesar dressing.

"Eliot, c'mon, you didn't have to prove anything. . ."

Parker, of course, broke the stalemate by squealing and jumping up on the counter to snag a piece. "Oooo, pizza!"

She bit in with relish -- Eliot loved watching her eat his food -- then closed her eyes in bliss. "Oh, yum."

Hardison's face was caught between wrinkling his nose and smiling fondly. It quickly switched to horror as Parker hopped back down off the counter and headed towards him with the pizza.

"Alec, you have to try this! It's so good!"

"Nah. . ."

Parker pouted as Hardison put his hands out to stop her. Then she got that glint in her eye, the one that Eliot knew meant she would have her way and they were better off just giving in now. She started to weave the pizza slice like an airplane, heading straight towards Hardison's mouth.

"Come on, Alec, just a bite! Just a teensy, little. . ."

Eliot buried his face in his hands to hide the laughter he couldn't suppress when it devolved into an all-out chase around the living room. Of course Parker won in the end, smushing the pizza in Hardison's face until he had to chew or choke, and only a chair and an end table got knocked over in the process, so Eliot would call that a win for hand-made, solid wood furniture.

"Hey, this is really good!" Eliot decided not to be offended by Hardison's obvious surprise, and instead basked in the smug satisfaction of being right.

But as he watched Parker and Hardison devour the pizza in what seemed like seconds, his smugness faded. They really liked it.

Which meant they were going to force him to make it again.


	2. Parker/Hardison, Sensory Deprivation (rated Mature)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sanguinity prompted: "Parker/Hardison, sensory deprivation." Originally posted [here](https://phoenixfalls.dreamwidth.org/4677.html?thread=15685#cmt15685).

Alec didn't even think about it. Parker brought out the blindfold and noise-cancelling headphones with that special little grin that said she wanted to try something new, and Alec was naked and spread-eagle on the bed in a flash.

She didn't tie him down, and she didn't gag him; she just said she wanted him to stay very still for her and Alec wriggled a little to get it out and then complied.

He would have been fine, really, if she had started doing things to him right away. But she let him stew, after she locked him into the dark and the quiet, and he knew, he knew that he was lying on their California King bed, he could feel their sheets underneath him, he could smell the syrup that had spilled from their interrupted breakfast that morning.

But it was dark, and it was quiet, and suddenly he could feel the walls of that coffin again, and he couldn't move, and he wanted to move and he didn't want to move and his throat was closing up, he was choking on his safeword and it wouldn't come out.

Parker's hands were there, in an instant and an eternity later, tugging off the blindfold and knocking the headphones askew. The world came rushing back, and Alec felt like an idiot, panting and sweating and totally ruining the moment.

Parker didn't say a thing, though, and didn't make Alec say anything either. She just tugged him up to sit back against her chest and wrapped her arms and legs around him, and held him until he stopped shaking.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [dreamwidth](https://phoenixfalls.dreamwidth.org/) or [tumblr](https://phoenixfalls.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
